Just your standard (Hypocritical) Adrenaline Rush
by The Readers Muse
Summary: So what if the kid was an Omega? It wasn't like he gave a crap.


**Disclaimer:** I don't own "Live Free or Die Hard" or any of the "Die Hard" universe characters, wishful thinking aside.

**Authors Note #1:**I got pulled back into this fandom after watching "Live free or die hard" again for the first time in years and then realized I'd never gotten around to doing a McClane/Farrell fic.

**Warnings:** alpha/beta/omega dynamics, pre-slash, clueless boys, drama, angst, injury recovery, reference to domestic violence.

**Just your standard (Hypocritical) Adrenaline Rush**

There was a small, spider-web crack in the corner of the window beside his hospital bed. It had been all he'd been staring at for the last three days, so he knew it pretty much by heart. Just like how he knew the kid's room was exactly thirteen and a half steps from his.

That seemed important.

No, it _was_ important.

Completely. Desperately. Throat-tighteningly important.

He inhaled, tasting burnt matches and chemical campfire on his tongue. Wincing as his lips chased the straw in his water jug. Hands trembling as he tried to water-down the taste. He knew from experience it would take time to fade.

By this point, trauma was a pretty familiar friend.

Somewhere down the hall, a doctor was being paged for the third time in under an hour. He squeezed his eyes shut before forcing himself to straighten. Instincts a frazzled mess as the intercom echoed in a sickening sort of way. Looking up in time to catch a woman with smeared lip-stick pass by. They only caught eyes for a moment. Memorizing the pale of her hospital gown as it fluttered around her upper thighs like a frightened ghost. But it was enough. Enough to narrow his eyes as he took in the chipped nail polish and the slight curve of her back. Clutching a bouquet of freshly-cut flowers to her chest as the bandage on her leg stood stark against her pale skin.

He grunted, trying to ease the ache on his shoulder. Only to pause mid-motion when he spotted the man who was following her. An alpha with black hair and a punchable face. His lips twitched in the shadow of a snarl; self control shot right out the goddamned window. But what made it worse was the way the woman lowered her eyes when she caught him staring – not quite daring to keep them level. And he could see why.

Roses and a purple-ringed black eye.

Charming.

_'Omega,'_ he thought, catching the notes of her distress as they diffused through the air in her wake. _'Probably a DV call.'_

He shook his head. He'd have a word with the nurses. Get an advocate down from the precinct. Normally he'd handle it himself, but honestly, he was still pretty fucked up.

He wasn't sure if he was getting older or if he'd really gone a bit too far this time. Because frankly, his head hadn't been right since the kid had opened his door. Staring at him suspiciously through that cheap-ass security chain. All smart-mouthed right off the bat before exhausted irritation had firmly shoved the alluring, musky-sweet smell the kid was giving off into the part of his brain he kept locked down with bars and chains.

_So what if the kid was an Omega?_

_It wasn't like he gave a crap.  
_

His hand made a fist on the thin blanket beside him. Remembering the moment that- _no._ He shook his head. He didn't want to think about that. Instead, he looked out the window, at the sunset lighting up the skyline behind him. Painting the clouds pink and orange. He squinted into it, deciding that sure, it was pretty and shit. But not special enough to take a picture of- not like Lucy and her friends were always doing. Something about instagrams and the internet. Fuck if he knew. He was just happy she was mostly over the selfie phase.

He caught the creak of metal and wheels. Looking up just in time to see the kid pause in the door-jam. Peering in only to grin and shove his hair back from his face when he saw him sitting up in bed.

"McClane? Oh, hey- you're awake. Me too, uh- obviously."

If he hadn't been sure it would hurt, he would have rolled his eyes. Something in his chest untightening a fraction as the kid wheeled up to his bed.

_Good._

_It was good the kid was here._

_Now he could keep an eye on him._

"Don't have anywhere else to be, do I?" he grouched. Careful not to attract the attention of the nurses. Especially the one in the purple scrubs. She took pill duty a bit too seriously. "Speaking of, should you even be out of bed, kid?"

Farrell shrugged, elbow popping like the snap of a bottle cap as he straightened it out. Making a face as it tugged at a line of shallow stitches on his forearm. The kind doctors only bothered with to keep from scarring too ugly.

"I was going stir-crazy. Besides, I had to take a leak. It took me twenty minutes to get out of bed, so I figured I'd make it worth it."

He inhaled without really thinking about it. Pleased and damn near content until he suddenly wasn't anymore.

"What is _that_?"

"What is what?" the kid echoed, glancing behind him before wincing back into the chair. Eventually catching onto the direction he was staring and- naturally, completely misunderstanding. "Oh, well, uh- they just changed the bandage and-"

"No..._that_," he bit off. Pointing at the perfectly innocent sweater Farrell was wearing. Trying not to make it obvious when he scented the air, nearly sneezing. Knowing he'd failed as the stink rankled him. Hating everything about it as the scent of _other _singed his nostrils.

"The sweater? Oh! Bowman's lackeys left it for me. Guess some things survived my apartment after all. Good thing too, I'm fucking freezing in here."

He wrinkled his nose.

"Take that shit off," he decided, reaching for the pile of clothes Lucy had brought from his place. He snagged one of his favorite sweaters - worn but serviceable - and shoved it at him. "Here."

He was surprised when the kid didn't kick up a fuss about it. Just grabbing it and doing as he was told, for once. The static making his hair fuzz up in clumps as the offending garment was set aside in favor of his.

_His._

He chuffed a pleased note deep on his throat. Blaming it on the pain killers. Wasn't like it was his fault he had a sensitive nose. God knows how many people handled it before the kid got it back. And if he was going to make a habit of dropping in, least he could do was not stink up the place.

He took another whiff, then nodded. Satisfied the kid smelled right again. Like a mix of old cassettes in the glove box on a hot day - gently metallic with a hint of melting into the vinyl. Cinnamon-sugar and-

"What?" he demanded, meeting Farrell's stare head on. Mulish and grumpy as he debated trying to take another sip of water before abandoning the idea on account of his audience.

But the kid just smiled small, eying him over the collar of the sweater he'd pulled up to his mouth for some godforsaken reason. Letting his lips run over it so _fucking_ _obscenely_ it had to be on purpose. Making him twitch - full bodied and achy - as he stopped himself from reaching out and forcing the kid to quit it.

But Farrell just kept staring at him. Eying him like Lucy and Holly did when they figured he was missing something obvious.

"Nothing," the kid finally answered.

_Nothing his ass._

There was quiet for a beat before-

"Now what?" Farrell asked quietly. A little bit subdued. One hand flapping pathetically as he gestured at the window and the city beyond.

He snorted. Dry and bored. He'd slept for most of the last two days and now he was paying for it. Add that to his grocery list of aches and pains, dry mouth from the god damned pills and a burgeoning constipation issue courtesy of the morphine and _well_\- he was doing just grand.

"What do you think?" he answered, used to it by now. "We spend another few days in this circus, lie on our doctor release forms and go home."

"Home, huh?" Farrell murmured, sardonic but mostly just a bit wistful. Which didn't make much sense until his brain caught the hell up with the rest of him. _Right. No more apartment. _"Guess I could call Warlock. See if I can crash at his place until I figure things out. The insurance company is going to be a nightmare."

But he was still stuck on that first part. Frowning into the dead space above the kid's head. Suddenly caught on the realization that the kid going home with anyone else, even temporarily, absolutely rubbed him the wrong way.

"I have a spare room," he listened to himself say. Distant from it in a way he didn't get, but ultimately appreciated when the kid's head up came up sharp-like. Like he didn't quite believe it. And he wasn't the only one.

_What the fuck was he doing?_

"You serious?"

He nodded. Figuring everything else didn't need to be said. Certainly not the threat of acid-reflux that was burning at the idea of even Freddie rattling up in his mom's car. In fact, the entire idea of the kid being outside his reach made him want to break something.

Instead, he did what he did best.

He tried to fuck himself over right out of the gate.

"Don't make me regret this, kid," he sighed. Glaring when Farrell coughed a laugh into the gaping collar of his sweater. Snuggling into the folds in a way that basically guaranteed he could never bring himself to wash it again.

"Oh, I'm pretty sure you will," Farrell shot back, grinning with light in the back of his eyes. Better than any high as they sat there together. Quiet and almost comfortable as the sun set on yet another day he was far too old to be excited to share with someone he barely knew.

* * *

He didn't regret it.

* * *

**A/N:** Thank you for reading, please let me know what you think. – This story is now complete.


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